Lucky Charm
by ActionAimz
Summary: Lucky's Charms are lost on Courtney. But never say never


Lucky Charm  
  
PG-13 Lucky's charms are lost on Courtney. But never say never.  
  
*Please feed*  
  
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She is coming to *you* for help? Not the Mighty Corinthos? Not . . . Jason? She chose you. This is progress.  
  
"You're a cop. You can help me." Her voice shakes as she hovers above you in Kelly's like an angel coming to save.  
  
"Yes I am a cop. The uniform gives it away, I guess." Your joke, dressed up in a playful grin, gets lost in the sadness of her eyes. "Sure I'll help you. Whatever you need." This is serious business. And so opportunistic.  
  
Faith is threatening and this is your chance to touch the untouchable. You imagine the scenario. You'll brace her shoulders as she shakes with nerves, lower your head and connect with her blue eyes. She'll have her jacket off, wearing one of those cute tanks that clings to her curves, leaving her arms exposed so you can touch her flesh. Finally. You'll sport the deep timber of your voice and give her an assuring smile – your best boyish grin. Jason Morgan never smiles – he hides behind his big gun, that soft silent way of saying absolutely nothing. Your smile is your weapon. Maybe the best you can offer.  
  
But ten million dollars and an enforcer husband make her untouchable. Damn, why didn't you move in for the kill when the coast was clear? When did you ever pass up a broken heart that needed mending.  
  
Her stay at Kelly's was short, a time of sweet torture. You remember laying across your bed, listening for light footsteps -- a key unlocking a door. Right next door. Her sobs would pour through the thin walls and seep into your consciousness, rising, invading all sensibilities.  
  
"Courtney," you would whisper, just to hear the sound of her name. Poor Courtney. You've always been good at comforting. Luke would say that it was Laura's influence not his. You put mother's gift to good use, healing Elizabeth once upon a time. Summer, Lydia, Emily. You held the remnants of tears from each one of them close to your chest. It's your calling, perhaps.  
  
But Courtney was some lofty idea. A princess in a fortress of a tower. Untouchable.  
  
You could only imagine her in your arms. You telling her it would get better. She surrendering to what should be better. You imagine her feeling warm and soft against you with curves that Elizabeth never had.  
  
Picture this scene. You go to her, end up in her room, ask her if she needs the snow cleared from her car or some lame excuse like that. Her eyes are raw, but beautiful. You rub your thumb across her cheek to absorb her tears, until she stops crying for *him*. She sees you.  
  
Hold, soothe her until she gives in, gives you her lips, her body. All of her surrendering. You peel off her clothes and tuck her under the covers. She holds out her hand with that smile. Oh the smile. Hesitation. She doesn't want to be alone. Neither do you.  
  
Cradling her small body, kissing her flesh, smoothing your hand down her belly, feeling her soft hair against your chin -- your hand. Ahhh. Sobs turn into pleasure-ridden whimpers while you make love to her, tenderly healing.  
  
It could have happened that way. But you always found yourself in front of her door, fist raised to knock, chickening out. Loser.  
  
"I left you some hot water. But you better hurry." That morning you were jovial in a towel and nothing else, prancing down the hallway on your way back from the communal facilities. The timing of your shower went just as planned. Yes. Falling back on your looks, again. Luke always said that you had more beauty than brains.  
  
You acted nonchalant, like it was nothing to be shirtless, nearly naked, in her presence. And so did she.  
  
"Thanks," was her muffled, zombie-like reply. You were hit with a frigid dose of reality like the coldest shower. Moving past you with empty eye- contact. To her you could have been anyone. She didn't want you. She only wanted the criminal, and that has to be the greatest crime of the century.  
  
Everything is set up at Pride Phillips to nab Faith. And the million-dollar CEO is breathtaking and vulnerable and unavailable. "So tell me, why didn't you call Jason or Sonny?" The burning question.  
  
"The custody thing. It's a long story. They don't need to be involved." She tilts her head and rubs the back of her neck. Back arched as if she is trying to work out the tension. You grow shifty. "They would handle it differently."  
  
"Oh I see." Her exact words didn't really register. Only the soft confidence in her voice, and you want to fall into the cushion of her breasts. "I will handle it differently," you assure her in a deep, authoritative police officer tone. "But why did you come to me?" Fishing for the right answer, breath held.  
  
"Well you're a cop," A shoulder shrug. A foot in mouth  
  
"I mean . . .not that I am not honored to help you. Because I am."  
  
She gives you a curious look as you fight signs of embarrassment, wishing you hadn't worn your dorky blue PCPD uniform that scream rookie.  
  
"Well you're a good guy Lucky. And I appreciate it. I really do." She smiles that huge, dangerous megawatt smile that strikes you like a lightening bolt out of nowhere. You can't move.  
  
A good guy. Perhaps. Too good for your own good.  
  
"Well I am happy to help. But you need to know how dangerous this is. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Seizing the opportunity to touch her, placing your hands protectively on her shoulders, you dare look deep into her eyes. The crystal clear blueness of them, the soft innocence entrances. She nods not moving from your grasp. You have never been this close.  
  
"Thank you Lucky. I can't go to Jason. We're getting a divorce and I need . . .I need to move on." She avoids your gaze as long as she can, then looks directly into you. Not through you.  
  
"Well I handle things differently like I said." Choking on words, you spill it. "And I wouldn't let you go so easily. Believe that." You raise her hand to touch her hair.  
  
She frowns, then smiles. With interest, maybe?  
  
You pull her body closer, slowly, tentatively. "Don't worry, I'll be listening to everything and I will come for you at the first sign of trouble. Everything will work out."  
  
"I know." Her lips part as if there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes search your face, seem to read your thoughts, and you feel more naked than ever.  
  
You detect a sigh, as she raises her thumb and presses it into the dimple of your chin, deep. She lowers your jaw, lifts on her toes.  
  
Soft lips graze your cheek, sweet breath warms flesh. Everything moves in slow motion. Floating.  
  
And she sees you. Finally.  
  
--end-- 


End file.
